All the King's Men
by kou-tora
Summary: On one end of the universe, there was a funeral being held. On the other end, was the man the funeral was for.
1. Chapter 1

So I've discovered that I have the annoying ability to think of new fanfiction ideas, while I'm insanely busy trying to work on homework and projects. Especially during all-nighters and not sleeping for 24 plus hours. This one, for example, is born from said conditions. I know I have like 10 million other stories to write. But this one, will not leave my brain. So I had to write it. At 5am.

This is more of a quick prompt/prologue/thing...then anything else. The plot, while straight-forward, is extremely flexible, in terms of what order and how things happen. Which is more annoying, because I can't decide how it's going to happen. It's very open. So I thought i'd write this up really quickly, try to get a feel for it, and see what you people think. I don't really like the last bit, so i'll probably end up re-writing it at some point.

Sorry for weird writing and grammatical errors and such. I've got to stop writing fanfictions at 5am as a way to "attempt" to sleep. It never works.

* * *

It was decided to be an invite-only event, with only a select few actually attending the service. It was publicly broadcasted though, and was the only thing playing on virtually all channels, throughout several galaxies.

After all, this was the funeral of the hero who saved Earth.

The funeral of Captain James T. Kirk.

The entire crew of the Enterprise was invited to attend. His closest friends sat towards the front, and each gave their own unique and heart-filled eulogy, praising their captain's life. All but one. The doctor, Leonard McCoy, never showed. His seat remained empty for the entire service.

His mother sat quietly in the very front. Cheeks wet with streaming tears. She remained mostly composed throughout the service, listening intently to each and every speech given about her son, smiling fondly at the good parts. This was not the first hero's funeral she had attended.

Next to her was her husband, who sat stiff and without emotion the entire time, quietly holding his wife's hand.

Lastly a surprise guest, who many didn't even know existed. Next to his mother sat Sam, the eldest of the Kirk boys. He gave his own speech, talking about the few rare events of his little brother's early life, which his friends treasured. Their captain spoke so rarely about his childhood, and they were grateful to learn a little more about him.

All the higher ranking officers attending and participated in the service, especially Admiral Pike, who had a few tears of his own in his eyes. He told everyone of his first meeting with him, and the challenge he gave. The challenge to be greater then his father, which he fulfilled three years later. It was one of everyone's favorite stories, because it was they believed to be the birth of their hero.

There was only one thing missing from the event. A very important thing, which left a gaping hole of loss and pain for everyone. James T. Kirk himself. There was no body to bury. An empty casket, for ceremonial purposes lay in the middle, but no one even looked at it, because they knew he wasn't there.

A grand salute was given at the end, as a form of farewell, traditional guns included. A tombstone would be placed later, but there would be no burial ceremony, because there was no body to bury. A plaque, with his name on it, would be placed on the wall of Fallen Heroes, those who died in service, right next to his father's.

Finally, the service ended, and everyone filtered out to leave. Time never stopped, the world never stopped spinning, and they had to continue on with their lives, even if he wasn't there with them. But the world felt a little bit grayer, with him not there.

--------------

A sneeze echoed over the vast empty plains. A man, perched on the top of a grassy hill, rubbed his nose and continued to look out over the night sky, staring up at the three multicolored moons above. It almost looked like back home, except for the sickly purple-blue grass, and the glowing eyes that stared at him from within it. The pleasant, yet alien landscape did little to soothe his mind or body. He rubbed his injured leg carefully, wishing for the pain to ease away. Pulling off his torn and dirtied golden shirt, he folded and placed it on the ground. His attention was drawn to the scored ground around him, rubble and twisted metal piled about. He let out a heavy sigh, and looked at the sky once more.

He was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow. Fastest update from me - ever. Another 5am writing spree. :P See, reviews help. A lot.

I figured I'm mention this now, because people will want to know. This is a GEN fic, with no pairings. Though, you're more then welcome to read between the lines, because like the original series and movie, there's a lot of subtle hints and actions going on, and it's nearly impossible to write them without being...well....gay. XD Let's just call it a very very strong Friendship fic.

I'm starting to set a good tone here. The story will be mostly (if not entirely) from Jim's angle. The actual events of what went down before, during and after the shuttle incident a year ago, will be explained in pieces through the telling of the other crew members as we catch up to them. So each chapter will include bits from the present, and flashbacks during the shuttle incident. So don't get confused it McCoy's lack of details doesn't explain everything.

So, yeah. Enjoy!

* * *

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. But to Leonard McCoy, it was all the same. He woke, dressed, submerged himself in his work, came home, submerged himself in his booze, slept, and then started all over again the next day. Ever since Jim's death, he couldn't find any ambition in perusing anything more.

He knew he was being pathetic. Just because Jim wasn't here anymore, didn't mean he wasn't capable of carrying on with his life. But Jim had a way of inspiring the best in people. With Jim now gone…McCoy was back being the crotchety old man he was known for.

"Yo, barkeep. Another." McCoy called out into the near empty bar which was occupied by its typical Tuesday regulars. McCoy wasn't one of those regulars, but Uhura had stopped by and pestered him about going out more, to other places besides the Starfleet Hospital. He figured he'd take her advice so she wouldn't nag so much. So, he went to a bar.

McCoy waved his glass at the bar keep for emphasis when the man didn't move fast enough. The man rolled his eyes but refilled the glass anyway.

McCoy took his time with this refill, savoring the slow burn down his throat. His eyes trailed out the tinted windows, staring at the blurred red lights that flashed outside from some unknown source. The world tilted just slightly, and for a moment, he felt as if he was back there, on that burning piece of scrap metal. The day Jim Kirk died.

---------

The entire place stunk of burning hull and smoking electrical wiring. The lights flashed red from emergency back-up power and the air was choked with smoke. And they were stuck there, like trapped rats on a sinking ship going up in flames.

Communicators were down, and there was no way for the Enterprise to beam them back aboard due to the ship's design. It was made from a strange and unknown material that allowed energy transports onto the ship, but not out. If there was a way around it, they hadn't discovered it, and they didn't have the time.

The rescue team was already down a man. A red-shirt McCoy didn't know the name of. Chekov, who in McCoy's opinion shouldn't have even been there in the first place, was badly wounded, drifting in and out of consciousness. Another red-shirt security officer who Jim often referred to as Cupcake, and McCoy himself were relatively unharmed, but that did little make the situation better. Jim himself was a little scuffed up, probably more so then the looked from the subtle limp in his frantic step. For once McCoy didn't even attempt to bandage Jim up. There just wasn't any time.

The piece-of-shit rig they were trapped on was going down, and going down fast. The controls were completely destroyed, practically melted together in a mass of wires and shrapnel. They moved back to the cargo bay, where Jim discovered a transport pad. It was of course not operating, but Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios, or situations he couldn't fix. Elbow deep in the mechanics and wiring, he frantically worked on diverting power and rebuilding the controls.

"Ah, Shit!" Jim swears as the wires he had been attempting to connect sparks and sizzles in his hands. Not bothering to wipe the blood from his split fingertips, he frantically picked up the wiring again and got back to work. "I'm almost there, almost there." Jim chants under his breath.

McCoy watches him from where he was trying to attend to the wounded Chekov. There is little he can say or do in this situation, and he's never felt so useless. He looks over at Cupcake, who was looking just as pathetic, unable to help. Jim was the only one of them who had any engineering experience, thus the only one who could save them.

It was then that Jim froze, holding a partially lit panel in his hands. McCoy watched him, surprised and worried by Jim's expression, or lack of thereof. It was neither an expression of defeat or victory. McCoy was just about ask what's wrong, when Chekov groaned in his delirious state. Jim's eyes snapped over to the injured boy, and his fist clenched around the panel with determination.

"I've got it!" Jim stands shakily, holding the panel. "Get on the transport deck, there's only enough juice for one shot."

"Thank God! Let's get off this hunk of scrap!" Cupcake roars with triumph and helps McCoy move Chekov onto the pad. Just in time too as another explosion rippled through the ship, making the lights flicker dangerously.

"Come on Jim! Let's go!" McCoy snapped, attempting to pull Jim onto the transport pad, but Jim didn't move. "Jim?"

Jim didn't look at McCoy. He punches a few buttons on the panel, with a sort of small smile on his face. "Sorry Bones, not this time."

"What the fuck are you talking about!? This isn't the time for games Jim!" McCoy snarls, pushing Jim's shoulder so he'd face him.

Jim continued punching in the coordinates into the make-shift panel he held. "I can't Bones. Someone's gotta stay behind and run the controls. Or no one leaves."

"So you automatically nominate yourself!?" McCoy roars, too angry to fully process what Jim's telling him. Only three out of their party of four can survive. And one must be left behind.

"Of course Bones! I'm the Captain, and I'll be damned if I let anyone sacrifice themselves for me. It's my ship, my men, and my responsibility to protect them!" Jim yells back, his carefully controlled emotions snapping, showing just how terrified and panicked he really was. His eyes however, hold that firm and deep-rooted stubbornness he was so well known for. "There's no other way."

"And it's our job to protect you, because without you, we're nothing! Nothing, Jim!" McCoy shakes Jim's shoulder for emphasis, his voice nearing hysteria. McCoy knows that look on Jim's face, which makes McCoy panic even more. "I'm not leaving without you!"

"The Enterprise is the best damn crew in the entire space fleet. She'll hold together, Bones. I taught them to." Jim smiles sadly at McCoy. "Sorry Bones."

McCoy's response is literally ripped from his lungs as Jim lands a hard punch right in his gut, making McCoy stagger and nearly keel over. Jim pushes him back hard towards Cupcake on the transport pad.

"Hold him! That's an order!" Jim snaps at Cupcake, who steadies the doctor. Cupcake nods, and with one arm supports McCoy, and with the other salutes his Captain. Jim gives him a brief salute back.

"Take care of them Bones." Jim smiles, and pushes a button on the panel, energizing the transporter.

McCoy attempts to lurch forward, but is held back by Cupcake. "GODDAMMIT JI----" He roars, but is cut off when he materializes. The smiling face of Jim, tears streaming down his face, is the last time he ever saw him.

The blinding white walls and near deafening silence compared to the alarms and smoke filled air of the damaged ship was a shock to McCoy at first. Other staff members, surprised by their sudden reappearance on the ship, move to help them. But McCoy just shoves them out of the way, dashing out of the room at breakneck speed. He runs to the observation deck, which is nearby, and presses himself up against the glass.

The damaged shuttle looks like a dying beast, bleeding out and falling apart. Pieces of the hull peel and snap, with explosions ripping gaping holes in the side. The gravity of the planet they were orbiting drags the shuttle down towards it, like a sinking ship at sea. It's so surreal, because as McCoy watches this with shear horror and sorrow, he feels detached and almost believes this wasn't happening. There is no sound. No alarms, blasts, creaks or deadly hiss. Just complete silence amongst the destruction.

McCoy flinches violently as the middle literally splits in two, another explosion sending it further down towards the planet, this time in pieces. It burns an angry orange and white, growing smaller and smaller as it disappears until it's nothing but a while speck in the far off distance down towards the planet surface.

McCoy slumps down against the glass. Just like that, his captain and best friend is gone. McCoy sits there, looking out onto the vast nothingness. He doesn't move for a long time.

Only one person checks up on him. Nurse Chapel tries to give him her support, but he's to far into denial and shock and grief to even respond. She tells him she'll check up on him later, and to take as much time off as he needs. McCoy wishes he was a better man, to comfort her as well, because she doesn't bother to hide the tears in her eyes. But McCoy's not that man, and he just continues to sit there.

It isn't until he hears the announcement over the intercom that McCoy moves. It's Spock, now calling himself Acting Captain. He tells the entire crew of Jim's demise, and that they'll be heading back to Starfleet immediately. Spock's expressionless tone grates on McCoy's nerves. Logically McCoy knows Spock is probably grieving too, but with a personality like Spock's, one could never tell. McCoy leaves the observation deck, seeking out his personal quarters. He isn't emotionally stable enough to handle seeing anyone at the moment. Especially the green-bloodied hobgoblin.

A bottle of whiskey calls to him from his secret stash. The one Jim had given to him for his birthday. He'll deal with everything else in the morning. But for now, he's going to drown himself in his only friend left, and relive the moment he was completely useless in saving his best friend over and over again.

---------

"Yo, pal. We're closing up. Time to go." The barkeep snaps McCoy out of his trip down memory lane. Grumbling about poor customer service, he slaps down some money for his tab, and shuffles out of the bar into the night. Looking up at the stars, McCoy feels no comfort from them anymore.

One year. It's almost been an entire year since Jim's death. Hell, it's been almost a year since he last went into space. McCoy scoffs to himself and thinks that Jim would probably call him pathetic. He had been on the Enterprise for a year with Jim as a captain, and had more adventures and lifetime stories then he did in his whole life not on the Enterprise. McCoy idly wonders if this was it for his life. It didn't get much more then this. He wonders if it's a bad thing that he doesn't really care.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, McCoy heads back towards his apartment. Tomorrow was another day.

* * *

Mitchell was a good kid. On board his father's spaceship, he obeyed the rules and always did as his father told him. But for once, Mitchell was too curious to follow his father's orders to stay away from the stranger they'd picked up. His father had told him that he was a drifter or traveler of sorts. He was hitching a ride with them, and working as a maintenance man to earn his keep.

Peering into the tiny closet of a room they'd give the him, Mitchell watched the traveler pick through his belonging from the small duffel bag he carried. The traveler was tall, and thin, unlike Mitchell's father who was rather stout and round. His hair, blonde in color, was dirty and slightly greased back, and his chin had a bit of a fuzz on it from where he hadn't shaved recently. Mitchell idly rubbed his own chin, wishing he was old enough to grow hair there.

The traveler was dressed in ragged clothing to match his rugged looks. Black well worn pants and boots that looked as if they'd been taped and glued together too many times. He wore a heavy leather-like jacket, which had been stitched together in many places. Mitchell wondered if someone gave it to the traveler, because it was far too big for a man his size.

The traveler eventually shrugged off the oversized jacket, and Mitchell's eyes widened at the number of scars that littered the traveler's arms and the brief amount of back Mitchell could see from where the beat up tank-top didn't cover his shoulders. Mitchell wondered how he'd gotten all those scars. His father always said, with every scar there was a story. So the traveler must have a lot of stories to tell.

Mitchell eyes widened even further when the man pulled out a folded shirt from his duffel bag. Despite it's torn and dirtied appearance, the traveler held it carefully, almost lovingly. He stroked the golden fabric between his fingers, looking at it sadly. Mitchell has seen that kind of shirt before.

The traveler snaps his gaze towards the doorway, and Mitchell gasps when he knows he's been caught spying. The traveler doesn't appear to be angry though, and he smiles easily at Mitchell.

"Hey there kiddo. What's your name?" The traveler greets, folding the shirt back up again. Mitchell hesitantly smiles back.

"Mitchell." He says, but he doesn't look at the stranger. Instead he looks at the shirt with unmasked curiosity. "That's a Starfleet shirt. Isn't it?" Mitchell blurts out.

The traveler is at first slightly surprised by Mitchell's straight forwardness, but just chuckles in reply. "Sure is."

"Where did you get it? Did you steal it?" Mitchell hops onto the traveler's fold-out cot, deeming the man safe and interesting enough.

"Hahaha, no. I'm a part of Starfleet. Or….I use to be." The traveler sits down next to Mitchell, letting the boy hold the shirt.

"Use to be? Did you get fired?" Mitchell feels the fabric between his own fingers, and wishes he had a shirt like this of his own.

"Nah. I've just been away for a long time. I'm trying to get back to them now." The traveler shrugs off his worn boots, smiling at Mitchell the entire time. "I use to be a captain, ya know. The best ship in the whole galaxy!"

Mitchell thinks it probably wasn't as good as his father's ship, but he doesn't want to argue with the traveler. Instead he wants to hear more about the man. "What's your name?"

"Jim. Nice to meet you." And the traveler, now Jim, holds out his hand for Mitchell to shake. Mitchell thinks Jim even more awesome because he's treating him like an adult, not some little kid.

Mitchell's father said the traveler was sketchy and that Mitchell should say away from him because he could be dangerous. But Mitchell knows Jim isn't like that. Jim's eyes, blue like the sky on Earth, tells Mitchell that Jim is really a good guy.

* * *

Don't forget to REVIEW!!! More reviews = More Inspiration = Faster Updates. (and actual reviews are better, not just ones that say 'plz update' which mean nothing to me)


	3. Chapter 3

My muse is a fickle beast, who only inspires me when it's good and ready.

I'll admit, this isn't the best chapter. It's one of those boring filler chapters that gets things from point A to point B. Which is one of the main reasons it took forever to churn it out.

The second is, thanks to several reviews, I've rewritten the plot, and added MORE action and general Kirk antics. Which took forever to weave together.

I may end up rewritting this chapter a bit, as I'm not a fan of the last bit. I'm tired and I was more concerned with finishing then actually writing something in-depth.....

* * *

Jim grunted as he attempted to twist a particularly stubborn bolt. Wedging himself within the tight engine compartments, Jim steadily worked on the maintenance of the old transport shuttle, _Barali_. The captain, Marcus, had been generous enough to let Jim hitch a ride with him back to Earth, providing Jim earns his keep by working on the ship. Though old and outdated, the transport ship was well cared for. Though that didn't stop Jim from adding a few upgrades and replacements of his own. Jim just considered it part of his deal maintaining the ship.

A tap on his foot, which was sticking out from where he was barely visible within the engine, caught his attention. Squirming himself out, Jim found little Mitchell, the captain's son, beaming up at him. A bag was held in one hand, and a towel in the other. "Here's your lunch, Mr. Jim." Mitchell smiled, offering the food to Jim.

Jim smirked down at the kid, who had recently become more like a puppy, following Jim around wherever he went. He first took the towel Mitchell held, which Jim used to clean his hands and face from grease. Taking the lunch bag, Jim ruffled the kid's hair. "Thanks kiddo." Mitchell giggled and followed Jim where he sat down on a work bench.

"Dad also said to tell you not to go near the turbine compartments while we're in warp. He says he doesn't want to scrape out body parts from inside there again, cause he can't fit in there that well." Jim scoffs as he takes a bite into his sandwich. He half wonders how serious Mitchell's father was about that.

"Dad says we'll be reaching Earth sometime tomorrow. We have to wait for clearance, but then we'll be landing in San Francisco SpacePort. That's when you'll be leaving, right?" Mitchell asks, almost shyly.

"Yeah. I've been away for a while. My friends probably miss me a lot." Jim said plainly. In the month he'd been aboard the _Barali, _Jim had grown fond of the captain and his son. They were good honest working folk, and it felt almost refreshing to work among the common people again, without all the regulations and protocols of Starfleet. Jim felt bad for leaving Mitchell. The kid had really grown attached to Jim, eagerly wanting to learn and follow everything he does.

Finishing up his sandwich, Jim groaned as the ever-present stiffness in his left shoulder twisted momentarily into a ripple of pain. Rubbing it, trying to soothe the pain, Jim caught Mitchell watching him with unmasked concern.

"Does your shoulder still hurt, Mr. Jim?" Mitchell asks, wondering if he should run and get an icepack. But Jim just gives him an easy smile and waves it off.

"Just an old ache, Mitch. Nothing serious."

"How did you get it? I see you rubbing it all the time."

Jim just sighs, looking down at his calloused and scarred hands. "An accident.

I got it…in an accident."

------

He awoke groggily. His eyes were blurred, hearing muffled, and body heavy. He tried to move, but at first his limbs didn't respond. The world was spinning, even though he knew he was flat on his back on the ground.

'_I'm alive' _was the first thought that crossed his mind.

And then the pain came.

Crying out in agony, Jim clutched his left shoulder. His fingers met a sharp surface. He opened his eyes briefly, finding a large piece of shrapnel jutting up from where it was imbedded within his shoulder, right near his collarbone. Pain laced down his entire left arm, and Jim struggled to keep from flailing around in agony. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed several panting breaths between clenched teeth. Using his right hand, he quickly grabbed the shrapnel and yanked it out his arm. There was a brief intense flash of pain, then a strange numbness.

Border lining unconsciousness, Jim didn't recall what he did with the shrapnel shard, because when he became aware of his surroundings again, it was gone. He clutched his shoulder, clenching his teeth at the extreme pain, but didn't stop because he knew he needed to stem the blood flow.

Knowing he couldn't lay around forever, and needed to get moving, Jim waited until he felt he could move without passing out again. Feeling slightly more confident, Jim half slid, half crawled out of the twisted shell of metal he had been lying inside. Fingers meeting fresh dirt and a breeze, Jim squinted as his eyes were assaulted by bright sunlight. Crawling up on his knees, and finally staggering to his feet, Jim fought of the wave of dizziness and nausea that threatened to send him back to the ground.

The air was choked with smoke, crawling up into the sky in large plumes. Fires rippled and crackled all around, crawling over burnt pieces of metal. Large chunks and pieces of shape ship hull were scattered around, leaving large craters and scars in the dirt. Turning around in a full circle, Jim calculated that this wasn't the entirety of the whole ship, but a small piece that had shattered on impact. Off in the distance, Jim could see several larger pillars of smoke rising from the ground, just over the few rolling hills. It was there Jim guessed the rest of the crashed ship was.

'_I'm alive.' _He thought again, not believe his destiny-defying luck.

The throb in his shoulder snapped Jim out his daze, and reminded him of the more important issue at hand. Stop from bleeding to death. It would be pretty pathetic of Jim to survive a massive crash, only to slowly bleed out and die in the end.

Crawling back to the shell of metal he had woken in, Jim did a quick scan for anything of use. Several compartments and equipment was relatively unharmed, just slightly torn into, much like Jim's condition. Not much was in any of them, but Jim did manage to find what remained of a med-kit. Old-fashioned gauze and med-tape. Both were fairly worn, due to old age, but at this point Jim would've taken anything.

Wrapping the wound with as much care and skill he could with one good arm and below-average medical knowledge, Jim was at least satisfied he wouldn't bleed to death anymore. He knew the risk of infection for wounds of this sort, but Jim could only hope that he could find some antibiotics or something on the main ship. Not that he knew what to take.

But that issue would have to wait till later. Jim's mind was already prioritizing and calculating the next issue. Getting of this deserted planet.

---

"Mr. Jim?" Jim snapped out of his mental flash-back when Mitchell shyly called out to him. Grinning broadly at the boy, Jim ruffled the kid's hair again affectionately.

"I'm fine, kiddo. See? Good as new." Jim jumped up and rolled his shoulder a few times, ignoring the twinges of pain to put on a show for Mitchell. It seems Jim was never free of people who worry about him.

"_Jim, get your butt up to the Bridge, asap." _The voice of the captain over the ship's speaker system suddenly rang.

"Uh-oh. First name, I must be in trouble." Jim sighed, wondering what the captain was going to ream him out on now. Even in the short month, Jim had learned that when the captain didn't call him 'Kid', then he was in for a serious discussion.

Mitchell just giggled and shook his head. "But he didn't swear, so it can't be that bad."

Jim gave Mitchell as skeptical look, but just shrugged. "Guess I better go see what last slave-order he's going to give me before I'm set free." Jim gave Mitchell a wave as he headed for the ship's cockpit.

Knocking on the bridge door, Jim didn't wait for a response as he punched the open-door command, and stepped through at the door hissed open with a slightly creak.

"'Sup Captain?" Jim beamed, ginning a million-watt smile like he had never done anything wrong. Which this time Jim didn't, if one didn't count all the unauthorized upgrades in the engines.

Captain Marcus just rolled his eyes at Jim's never-ending energy and boyish behavior. "Vick, take a break." Marcus waved to his second-in-command, who was piloting the ship. Vick snapped the ship onto Auto-Pilot, and nodded to Marcus. Giving Jim a passing glare, Vick stepped out of the room without a word.

Though Vick was a man of few words, from day one Jim could tell Vick was skeptical of Jim, and rarely ever talked to the new recruit. But that one glare he gave Jim continuously told Jim that Vick didn't trust Jim in the slightest.

Marcus waved for Jim to join in the small cockpit, waving to the only other chair available. Jim did so, plopping down and making himself somewhat comfortable.

"So you'll be leaving us tomorrow." Marcus began. Jim immediately gave a subtle sigh of relief. He wasn't in trouble.

"Yes sir. I've got friends in San Francisco I'm eager to see again."

Marcus just hummed in acknowledgement, busying himself with a PADD he was holding. After a long pause, he set it down, and turned to Jim, studying the young man.

"I've gotta admit, when I first found you out there in the deep-space boonies, begging for a ride, I was a little skeptical. You didn't exactly look trust-worthy, or even that smart." Marcus chuckled at Jim boyish frown at the insult.

"But you proved me wrong, Kid. You've got skills barely half the people in your age-group have. Don't think I don't know about those secret upgrades you've been installing in my engines. The only reason I've been quiet up till now is because they seem to working. If they didn't I wouldn't even bother waiting till we reach a spaceport before kicking your ass off my ship." Jim softly scoffed at that, believing every word. He was slightly embarrassed to have been found out, though he should have expected it. Mitchell probably updated his father regularly on Jim's work.

"And you've been a great inspiration to Mitch. I'll admit I was a little worried about what kind of influence you would be on him, but you've done good. Almost a little too good, because he's going to be crushed when you leave." Marcus turned back to the PADD, typing a few things as Jim remained quiet and downcast.

"I know you got friends to meet and such, but if things don't work out, you'll have a spot waiting for you here." Marcus threw out at last.

Jim didn't reply at first, but just remained quiet as he stared out at the vast emptiness of space that flew by.

"I had a dream once," Jim started, not looking at the captain. "In a one-in-a-million chance, that dream became a reality. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. But then something happened, and that dream was stolen from me. Because I lived that dream, and experienced it, I can't do anything else now. I have to get it back. I can't settle for anything less. No matter what other good things may come by."

Marcus just nodded, watching the same space Jim was. He understood what he was saying. Jim appreciated the offer, but he had something to achieve. Marcus smiled at that thought, casting a glance at the young proud man who sat next to him. This kid had a mission, and was determined to achieve it. Marcus was actually glad that Jim declined.

Deciding that he had enough of the solemn mood, Marcus moved onto the next topic. "We'll be landing in the San Francisco SpacePort sometime tomorrow. Ever do any orbit entry procedures?"

Jim just chuckled at that. "Oh, you could say I've done a few."

This just caused Marcus so scowl in annoyance. "I can see why Vick is so suspicious of you all the time. You've done practically everything under the sun, yet you're suspiciously tight-lipped about your background. Mitch let slip to me that you told him you use to be a captain. Half of me wants to believe that, considering it would match the endless skills you seem to have, yet the other half of me doesn't believe that, considering how young you are. Plus, why keep quiet about that? Unless you've been involved with some illegal activities?"

Jim just shook his head and hands in adamant denial. "No No! Nothing illegal, trust me!"

"Then what are you hiding?"

Jim just sighed, resting his chin on his propped up hand. "Honestly, you wouldn't believe me."

* * *

Ok, I know. Still not explaining much. But that's the point. Little bits of the whole story bit by bit. And yes, EVERYTHING will make sense and be expained. Why they were on that ship, how Jim survived, how he got off the planet, why he didn't contact starfleet, why he never gives his last name, etc. etc. It will all come in pieces, as Jim meets up with people, and he has to explain what happened. It wouldn't be any fun if you knew the whole picture before everyone (Bones and Co.) did.

I was deeply tempted to go more indepth with Marcus and Mitchell, but they're not sticking around for much longer, so I decided not to bother. Having a basic view of them is kind of nice.

Lastly, I LOVE all the reviews and support I've been getting!! Reviews are such a major inspiration for me!! Keep it up!! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here it is. The chapter that caused me to practically re-write a ton of the plot, just for this one scene. Originally Jim was going to arrive on Earth without a hitch. But several reviews inspired me to do the predicable, and make Jim's life a little bit more difficult.

Now, there is one thing I'd like to make clear. 99% of this chapter is complete BS. (a) I don't know much about how commercial/non-starfleet ships on a regular basis land on Earth and all those procedures, so I simply made it up. I'll admit a bunch of it was inspired from Firefly. (b) I know even less about engineering and all that technical gargin, so again, I made it up. My excuse, it's the future. Anything can happen. So, please take it with a grain of salt.

You lucky ducks get an extra long chapter too. I have a ton of projects coming down the road, so I probably won't be able to update for a while. I stayed up to 5am finishing this, just for you. Which also means that my grammar is down the drain, but I'll fix that later when I'm more coherent and my eyes stop skipping words.

* * *

"_Barali, you are clear for entry and planet decent to the San Francisco Landing Field. Please proceed." _

"Roger that. _Barali _descending." Marcus clicked the comm unit off, cutting the connection with the Earth SpaceDock. Punching another button, he turned on the ship-wide communicator. "Alright guys, inspection's clear. We've got clearance and will be entering the atmosphere shortly. Do last minute checks now, then strap your asses in." With that, he shut the comm off and let out a sigh of relief.

"And you had doubts." Jim laughed next to Marcus from where he sat in the other console.

"Of course I had doubts you idiot. Do you know how many changes you made to my ship that aren't a part of the original blueprints? Luckily they bought the excuse it was an outer-system job, and that a lot of the changes were mechanic specifics." Marcus grumbled.

"Which they are, technically." Jim smugly pointed out, as he ran down the checklist of pre-orbit entry procedures.

"Yeah but SpaceDock checkpoint inspectors don't want to hear that some snot-nosed _kid_ with nothing to his name did them all himself, in a month. They hate anything remotely suspicious, and if it even looks the slightest bit damaged, weird or alien without proper documentation, there was no way in hell they would've granted us clearance for planet decent, especially into a Starfleet major hub. Bunch of nosey Starfleet pricks. A man can't work on his ship anymore without people asking why and how. " Marcus ranted, clicking his seat harness in and finalizing the lock-down.

"I'm not sure what you're complaining about. Did you _see_ those legs on our inspector? Now she was _fine. _Shecould inspect my ship any day". Jim just got a withering glare from Marcus for that.

"We all set back there?" Marcus called through the comm unit again.

"Cargo and personal effects all buckled down." Mitchell's voice soon responded.

"And yourself?"

"Check." This time it was Vick's monotone voice, with a positive reply from Mitchell in the background.

"Alright, kiddies, hold on. Here we go." Marcus punched in the final procedure code and did one final sweep of the system check. After receiving a thumbs up from Jim, who just finished buckling himself in, Marcus gave a hasty sigh. "Alright old-girl. Let's do this nice and slow." With that, he pushed the helm controls downwards, pushing the ship into a steady dive.

The ship rattled and a brilliant orange burst surrounded the exterior as it entered the atmosphere. Marcus steered the ship with a steady grip, keeping her on course to its destination. Jim, while monitoring the systems and temperature, was half distracted by the fiery display in front of him.

_It was all chaos and noise. Lots of noise. Screaming of alarms and metal. The world twisted round and round to the point Jim long lost the ability to decipher which was up or down. Everything around him was getting hotter and louder, and all he wanted to do was to make it stop so he could at least throw up. But he couldn't, because the tiny space he was crammed into was rolling and twisting too quickly.. The only thing he did know was that he was falling. Faster and faster and faster….. _

"Don't look so excited over there." Marcus remarked over the rattle and roar, noticing Jim's glazed look, mistaking it for boredom.

Caught off guard, Jim smiled sheepishly, snapping out of his trance. "Haha, Like I said, I've done this a few times already. Even did a space jump once." Jim smiled, replacing the horrid memory of falling with the rush of that jump, trying to land on Nero's drill from mid-air. That was something Jim would give anything to do again.

Marcus just shook his head, still unable to figure out Jim's mysterious past and how he's done so much for such a young age.

The orange burst suddenly broke, and the blackness of space faded into a brilliant blue of the sky. The ship shuttered as it soared through the air. "Atmosphere entry complete. Keeping course to San Francisco Landing Field. ETA 20minutes. Welcome to Earth everyone." Marcus voiced over the comm unit. Jim let out a shaky sigh of relief. He was almost back. After a full year of being away, he was finally home.

A loud wail suddenly erupted from the console. "We're getting an emergency hail! Patching through." Jim called, punching the console buttons. A crackled voice soon filtered through the speakers, with no visual feed.

"_Mayday! Mayday! This is the Felda. Is anyone out there?" _

"Felda, this is the Barali. What is your emergency?" Marcus replied, quickly working on trying to locate the ship in distress.

"_Our main thrusters have failed during orbit entry! We can't decelerate!_" The panicked voice of the Felda's crewmember cried out.

"Have you contacted Starfleet's emergency response team?" Jim replied, knowing every Landing Field kept specially equipped rescue ships for rare emergencies such as these.

"_We just did! Their main emergency rescue ship was called away. They next closest one has an ETA of 20min. They won't make it!"_

As if on cue, a second transmission hailed the Barali. _"This is Starfleet Air traffic Control. An emergency situation is underway. A ship making entry is having technical difficulties and cannot decelerate. All ships be advised and steer clear_." The automated emergency transmission ended with a click.

"Shit. This _is_ why they're suppose to have orbit checkpoint inspections. So they won't have situations like this!" Marcus punched the console in frustration, setting a new course to avoid the falling ship. "Jim, did you find out where they are?"

Jim nodded, grimly pointing up. "They're right above us. They descended through the atmosphere right after we did." Jim typed a few commands into the console, and pulled up another display. "The Felda's another transport type ship, mainly for passengers. A bit smaller then the Barali, but not by much. Looks like the thrusters' ignited and burst during entry. No way they can repair it in time." Jim steadily read the scan's reports on the rapidly falling ship above them. "Capt'n, there's got to be something we can do to save them. Even if their projected crash point is over the ocean, the minute that ship hits the water at that speed, it'll shatter. No way anyone could survive that kind of impact."

Marcus just shook his head. "There ain't nothing we can do. We don't have any grapplers or even the power to slow their decent. We're just two flying bricks in the sky, only one's just going to land a little harder then the other."

Jim angrily punched the armrest of his seat, frustrated by his inability to do anything. He stared at the data and the image of the falling burning Felda. It looked and almost felt too familiar, and it made Jim feel even more sick inside.

"We can't do _anything _to save them, Dad?" Jim and Marcus spun around in surprise to find Mitchell in the doorway, with Vick soon running up behind him, looking apologetic.

"What the hell are you doing up out of your seat!? We haven't landed yet! Vick, take him back and strap your asses down!" Marcus roared, angry and more upset at seeing his son walking around while they were still descending rapidly. Mitchell knew better, and especially Vick.

"But Dad! We have to help them! All those people!" Mitchell protested when Vick in vainly tried to pull the boy away.

Marcus opened his mouth to yell again but was cut off by Jim who had turned back to staring intently at the display screen. "We can." Everyone looked at him in surprise. Jim turned to them, with an excited determination in his eyes. "We can save them." If Marcus had known Jim longer then he did, he may have known to recognize that particular crazed look of Jim's, which everyone else knew meant he had cooked up yet another crazy-stunt plan. Unfortunately for Marcus, he mistook that look for just simple excitement.

"What the hell are you talking about!?"

"The Felda! We can save them! When you mentioned power, I realized we have more of it then you think!" Jim excitedly waved his hands, as if his master plan would spontaneously make sense to everyone else.

"What!? How?" Marcus snapped, not entirely sure if he really wanted to hear Jim's proposal. Having a brief moment of hope is almost as worse as having no hope at all.

"Power! Because I calibrated and did work on the engines, we have more power then what the original specs say. At least 15% more! We can save the Felda because we have more thrust!"

"Boy, you're not making a lick of sense! Spit it out!"

Jim, frustrated and not use to being around people who didn't instantly understand what he's talking about (Chekov and Spock were both good at that, and occasionally Scotty), he spun around and brought up a new display, playing out his master rescue plan. The bridge was momentarily silent, as the others processed Jim's crazy scheme.

"Yeah! Let's-" Mitchell cheered before he was cut off.

"No. Hell no! Are you out of your mind? There is no way that would ever work, especially not with anyone coming out of it in one piece. And I refuse to risk my son and crew on some half-thought scheme!" Marcus cut in.

"Trust me Marcus. It'll work. My calculations are right. _We can save everyone. _What's worse, everyone on the Felda dead, or a few scuffs and dings in the hull?" Jim insisted.

Marcus opened his mouth and moved to throttle Jim for his childish hopes, but a tug on his sleeve stopped him. Mitchell looked up at his father with a dead serious expression that frighteningly matched Jim's. "Dad, we _have_ to save them. Because we _can_. Wouldn't you want someone else to do the same?"

Marcus was taken aback by his son's sudden leap in maturity and age. A quick glance to Vick, his trusted right hand man, showed that the silent man was also for it.

Marcus gave a bone-weary sigh and turned full about in his seat. Angrily grabbing the communicator, he hailed the Felda. "Felda, this is the Barali. Do your secondary thrusters still work?"

After a brief pause, a static reply came. _"Roger that Barali. But they don't have enough power to slow our decent." _

Marcus gave a long look at Jim, who was staring at Marcus intently. Marcus just gave him a withering glare before turning back to the controls. "Listen up Felda. We've got a plan that's just crazy enough to work. Here's what we're going to do…." Jim and Mitchell both smiled in victory as Marcus explained the operation to the Felda.

---

"Ok, we don't have much time left, so let's do this!" Jim roared over the open comm, which was connected to both the read of the ship and the Felda. He received a chorus of cheers and 'Roger that' .

With Marcus at the helm, he directed the Barali directly below the path of the falling Felda and slowly began decreasing the decent rate, slowing the ship. Though the Felda's main thrusters were blown, they could still steer and minimally level themselves out with their secondarily thrusters.

"Easy, easy……40 meters….30...20.….10..." Jim counted down, watching the distance between the two ships. Slowly the distance shrank, as the Barali kept enough speed to match the Felda's decent, but just slow enough so that the Felda would catch up with them.

"5 meters….3.…1!" Jim shouted just as the ship gave a lurch. The Felda successfully landed on the back of the Barali, essentially piggy-backing on the slightly larger ship. The gradual slow decent of the two ship made it so the two ships didn't collide violently. "Ok now! Punch it!" Jim shouted, punching a series of commands into the console.

The Barali roared to life as the main thrusters blasted at full power, slowing the decent of both ships. Jim steadily increased the power output, watching so that they didn't overload, but just enough so that they could reach a desirable speed in time. "Mitch! Open the second core all the way, then strap yourself in back there! This landing will be kind of bumpy! Vick, same thing with the fourth core!"

"_Barali, this is Air traffic Control. I don't know what they hell you're doing over there, but keep it up! We've cleared all landing pads, and evac vehicles are en route, so just make it here!"_ The voice of the Starfleet Air Traffic Control rang through.

"Ya think!? It's not like we're going through all this trouble just to land on a building for shits and giggles! Hell we wouldn't even have to be doing this if you guys had your rescue ships around like their suppose to be!" Marcus screamed into the comm as he held a death grip on the helm, trying to simultaneously slow the decent of two ships while steadily guiding them towards the landing pads which were coming up on them fast.

"Not now Marcus! You can scream at them later! We've still gotta actually land first!" Jim yelled over the commotion. "Felda, we're closing in. Get ready to break away."

"_We're ready Barali!" _The Felda responded.

The two ships, though still descending at a fairly rapid pace, had decreased their speed significantly. As they approached the open landing pad, the Barali suddenly dropped out below the Felda just as the Felda started up their secondary thrusters, making the two ships separate. The Felda had reached a speed and distance so that the secondary thrusters were able to slow the ship enough to land it with a heavy thump and a brief slide across the pad. The people inside were probably tossed about a bit, and the underside of the ship received some damage, but everyone would live to walk away.

The Barali, just after breaking away, directed itself to land, trying to give itself a slower and gentler landing. It had to pick up a bit more speed and spin off to the side to successfully break away from the Felda, as the ships couldn't land on top of each other.

Just as their were nearing the ground, an alarm in front of Jim's console rang out. Jim swore and immediately leapt from his seat, abandoning the bridge and flat out ran to the back of the ship, ignoring Marcus's questioning yells.

"Move! Move! Get out!" Jim yelled, barreling into the engine room where Mitchell and Vick were strapped in, all while watching over the engine's status. "The turbine's overheating!" Jim pulled Vick out of his seat and pushed him back out towards the door and ran to Mitchell, helping the kid unbuckle his seat strap.

Suddenly a jarring noise ripped through the engine room, like an angry scream of something tearing apart. Jim only took half a second to look over his shoulder, before pulling Mitchell into his arms and running with the kid towards the door.

Time slowed to a crawl as something within the engine snapped, and an explosion ripped its way out from inside, spreading outwards like a blooming hellfire flower. The shockwave caught Jim and Mitchell as they reached the door. Reacting purely on reflex and instinct, Jim curled himself around Mitchell, shielding the boy as the shockwave and fire hit them from behind, sending them both hurtling forward.

Jim's last conscious thought was him wondering if he'll ever have a normal landing ever again, especially ones that didn't include crashing, explosions and fire.

-------

Emergency vehicles were on sight within minutes. Entering the two crashed ships was entirely different matter, as both exteriors were still quite hot from their recent entry into the atmosphere. Plus neither ship landed quite correctly, making access to the entry doors difficult.

The Barali's hatch broke open 10 minutes after its landing, after the exterior was deemed cool enough to approach. Two medics were allowed to enter first, anticipating injuries after the ship's unexpected violent landing. Other officers and emergency workers were working the exterior, putting out the small fire that was already dwindling.

The medics were greeted by the red-faced captain, who appeared relatively unharmed by the way he was swearing and physically dragging them towards the damaged engine room. "Took you long enough to get here! We've got a man down!"

The medic found a boy and another man crouching near an unconscious body. The boy was clutching on the unconscious man's torn and bloodied shirt anxiously, looking down at him with tears in his eyes.

"What happened?" The medic asked, as he crouched down and began to visually catalog the unconscious man's injuries. A quick check to the pulse provided a steady heartbeat, and the expanding of his chest easily showed the man was breathing. The other medic did a quick check-over of the boy and other man, but they were relatively unharmed, with the exception of a few bruises and scratches.

"We…we…were caught in an explosion. Mr. Jim…he saved me." The boy hiccupped.

"Is Jim his last name, or first? Do you have his medical records?" The medic pressed, noticing the burned skin along the back. Several antibiotics and other medications would need to be given, but having medical records would make things easier on what medications they could prescribe.

The boy just shook his head, scrubbing the tears from his eyes with his arm. "Jim's his first name. I don't know his last name."

The captain stepped up next to them, adding in. "He doesn't have any medical records. He was just as hitching a ride with us, to Earth. Picked him up from some backwoods galaxy. I never got his last name either."

The medic sighed, but shouldn't have been surprised. Hitchhikers and unregistered strangers were pretty common with smaller vessels such as these. It had been a long shot to get the medical records. He gave a nod to his partner who began prepping the stretcher to carry the unconscious man out. He didn't have any clear life-threatening injuries, and was stable enough for transport.

"Wait! Jim said he was in Starfleet! They might have his medical records!" The boy eagerly shot out, remembering a key fact.

The medic looked skeptical "No offence kid, but I doubt any officer of Starfleet would be hitching rides on cargo ships like this."

"Scan him anyway." The other man, who had been quiet the entire time spoke up suddenly. "He'll be in your database." The stern expression on the man's face told the medic he was serious.

The medic sighed, and got a shrug from his partner. Figuring it couldn't hurt, the medic pulled out his scanner, and pressed the unconscious man's thump and forefinger to the scanner.

A short beep surprised the medic, indicating there was a match. Looking at the results, the medic became confused and almost alarmed. Thinking the results a mistake, and ignoring the questioning look from his partner, the medic opened the unconscious man's eye, running the scanner over the blue eye, scanning the iris.

Again, another beep, indicating a positive match.

"No way. That's impossible." The medic gasped in growing awe.

"What is it?" His partner eagerly asked, wanting to know what the medic discovered.

The medic simply held out the scanner for his partner to see. The results showed the profile of the unconscious man.

_Name: James. T. Kirk._

_Rank: Captain_

_Status: Deceased_

* * *

And Jim arrives on Earth! Yay!

You should all thank me, because I was SO tempted to end this chapter in several places. But no, I dragged on, determined to get this whole scene done and over with. Whew.

Next chapter you get to experience the one other thing that I BS more then engineering terminology. Medical terminology! Woo hoo!

Oh and maybe some people show up. :)

I LOVE REVIEWS! It's what keeps me going!!

Until next time! Let's hope the next chapter isn't another 5am writing spree! XD


	5. Chapter 5

When the paramedics called in, saying that they would be bringing in a code M38, Dr. M'Benga really wished he wasn't on duty that night. He hated code M38's. While rare, they were the biggest hassle of any ER, right next hazardous waste spills and infectious outbreaks.

Code M38, in general, stands for "_A person of high interest and/or who's identity is either questioned and should remain classified under strict protocol until further orders". _

Protocol was to be followed to the T, and the part that made M38's so annoying. Only the bare minimum number of staff members were allowed to see the patient, both during transfer and in the hospital. Generally that included the two paramedics, one nurse and one doctor. Those who have seen the patient were immediately put under automatic orders to not discuss the identity or condition of the patient to anyone else. After immediate medial treatment was given, the next chain-in-command was to be called and notified of the situation.

All of this was done in scarcely an hour, and this left M'Benga a little time to breath and think about the whole mess. His "questionable identity" patient had only a concussion, some bruised ribs and a few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious or life threatening. He was sedated and would be asleep for a good while longer.

It was the "questionable identity" part that M'Benga was having serious doubts about. What else was he suppose to think, when long-dead hero Captain James. T. Kirk rolls into his ER, looking alive as ever, even if he was unconscious with a concussion. M'Benga had served on the Enterprise during the Captain's brief command during the incident with Nero and a brief tour afterwards (M'Benga transferred out scarcely a month later, unable to deal with the dangers of space and loosing so many friends in the loss of the other six ships). Though he didn't know the man that well, he had spoken with him a few brief times, and seen him on several occasions in Sickbay, while getting treated for injuries by CMO McCoy. Suffice to say, M'Benga had a pretty good idea what the man looked like. But to see him alive, after hearing the details of his death, was enough to make his head spin. He didn't want to get his hopes up, and believe that Captain Kirk really was alive, only to be disappointed to find out this was yet _another_ imposter.

It wasn't until another hour later when a Commander finally showed up. M'Benga didn't recognize him, and really didn't have any desire to know the man, seeing how the Commander was tight lipped and posture ram-rod straight. He looked like the type that gave out charges and disciplines if you so much stepped the wrong way around him.

"Well, where is he?" The Commander barked, having idled for all but 10 seconds and apparently put-off that M'Benga hadn't moved yet.

"Right this way sir. We put him in a room in the back." M'Benga motioned, allowing the Commander to lead, even though he didn't know where he was going.

"For your sake I certainly hope protocol was followed to the highest of discipline. These imposter types do no good beyond causing chaos and discord. We don't need false news spreading like wild-fires through the media." The Commander snapped as he stepped quickly through the hospital hallways. M'Benga was actually grateful he was behind the Commander, so he could freely roll his eyes. He wished he could say something in reply, seeing how the Commander seemed to have already made up his mind that the patient was an imposter, but didn't.

"Right here sir." M'Benga motioned towards one of the back rooms. The door hissed open, and the Commander stepped inside. M'Benga waited outside, knowing he'd be called if needed.

He was surprised when the door hissed open scarcely a second later, and the Commander burst outside, red faced and furious.

"What's the meaning of this!? Where is he!?"

M'Benga peered inside, only to find the room empty of its occupant. Only the rumpled bed sheets gave any indication that someone had been there.

----------

It was dark outside, but not quite the late hour when Admiral Pike found himself walking down the street, rubbing his temples in irritation. His day, more like his whole week, had been filled with long tedious board meetings filled with all the political crap Pike hated. People said he was good at it, bending the bureaucracy to his will. But that didn't mean he _liked _it.

It wasn't uncommon for him to find himself missing the days when he was up in the stars, flying through the universes and seeing sights unknown. But his injuries prevent those days from ever returning. Through long tedious physical therapy sessions, he was able to fully walk without any sort of support, but that was just about as good as he was going to get. The permanent stiffness in his lower spine prevented him from doing anything more then a short light jog. Pike should be grateful he just wasn't in that damn chair anymore.

Walking without any hurry, Pike made his way to one of his favorite bars that was near the Academy campus. It was Friday, mid terms were over, the quarterly board meetings were done with, and Pike needed a drink.

Before even rounding the corner, he could hear the tell-tale sounds of the rowdy pub. Pike scowled at the thought of a huge crowd in the one bar he decided to go. He should've known, considering mid-terms were over, and this was one of the closest bars near campus. But from the sounds coming from behind the classic wooden doors, it was more then just a rowdy crowd. It was a full-blown bar fight. Great.

Pike actually hesitated for a moment, hovering just outside the pub. He considered if he should step in and clear the place of the cadets before the barkeeper called the local authorities, if they hadn't already.

Pike sighed, knowing he couldn't just walk away and ignore it. These kids weren't actually half-bad, compared to other years, and he didn't really blame them for wanted to vent a little of that pent up anxiety. He remember his Academy years and the stress-relief activities after tests. Looking out for them wasn't a bad thing, and Pike hadn't cleared a bar in a very long time.

Pushing the door open wide, he took a brief moment to survey the scene. Which was just as he expected. A sea of bodies punching and yelling, with glasses being broken left and right. Pike caught site of the bartender on the other side, who was screaming at no one and everyone, with one hand already on the phone.

Grumbling to himself, Pike thought he was getting to old for this. Taking in a deep breath, Pike let loose his trademark whistle, high and loud, effectively silencing the entire bar. Pike smirked inwardly. He hadn't lost his touch quite yet.

"Out. Now." Was all he said. Just like that, the red-clad cadets, and even some regular citizens cleared the bar in a rather orderly fashion. One of the last to leave, a graduate if Pike remembered correctly, was clutching a man by the front of his shirt, holding him up and looking just about ready to drop-kick him. The graduate met Pike's glare, and scowled, throwing the man down onto a table, before stomping out of the bar. Pike made a mental note of the graduate, and decided to write up about this incident in the graduate's personal record. Just for smite.

The man who had been thrown on the table, now sprawled on his back and bleeding everywhere, rolled his head down, looking at Pike from an upside-down position.

"Ya know, you can _still _whistle really loud." The man slurred as his split lip and busted nose bled into his mouth and down his face. He flashed Pike a cocky grin, teeth stained red and one eyes closed and starting to swell. But the face was unmistakable.

"Goddammit." Was all Pike could say in response, thinking he was definitely getting to old for this.

* * *

so yet another past-midnight writing spree. Better then my previous records, as it's only 3:30am, but this chapter is considerably smaller.

This chapter was going to be much longer, but the next bit has a ton of dialogue that I'm having trouble writing, so I figured I'd split it and give you atleast something to gnaw on. Again, this ENTIRE bit was recently redone, for additional plot. Pike was originally going to meet Kirk right there in the hospital, but I'm giving myself a pat on the back for working in this clever little addition.

Don't ask me about the stupid M38 code thing. I just randomy made that up for some reason :P

I could say more, complain how I don't really like how this chapter came out, but I'll just leave it as is for now.

Just wanted to quickly say THANK YOU OMG OMG OMG for all the AMAZING reviews I've been getting!! It really makes my day whenever I get one!!! It's because of all of you who review who inspire me to write this and make the stort the way it is. A ton of the plot has already been influenced just by your feedback, so keep it up if you like it!!!


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